


The Undead Wolf

by inclelucy



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Sansa, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Post Season 7, R plus L equals J, Sansa will save the Realm's ass, Slow Burn, Stark Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-03-09 15:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13484685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inclelucy/pseuds/inclelucy
Summary: They gave way to her like how men would for their queen, except they weren’t men but the undead.She willed her feet to continue walking on the snow-covered path leading to the godswood, each step creating a crunch which would not have been audible if it weren’t for the eerie silence brought about by the lack of breathing around her.Slowly, through her tears, the weirwood tree came to sight, and beside it stood an undead stallion with him atop. She could only think of one creature from Bran’s stories.He was exactly how she imagined him to be. The Night King.





	1. A Lady's Duty

 

**_ A Lady’s Duty _ **

Sansa Stark was busy studying Winterfell’s ledgers in her solar when she was summoned to her younger brother’s chambers.

As she sat in front of him, she waited... and waited… while he looked at her with the same blunt affect he had shown her since he came back from beyond the Wall.

He then narrowed his eyes and stared at her more intently as if doing so would give him some answers as to why the Night King was heading straight to Winterfell. Several days ago, the first stretch of the army of wights were scouted not far from the castle.

They had manned The Last Hearth, Karhold, Hornwood and even the Dreadfort expecting The Night King to go through them before heading straight to where most of the people of the North are. Sansa asked him if he had any idea why but she was shunned by him as he asked her a question.

“Sansa... if you could have one chance of saving us all from the Long Night, will you do it?” Bran asked while staring at her with those deep empty eyes.

If not for the gravity of the situation they were in, she would have laughed, but she knew the Three-Eyed Raven wasn’t jesting.

“Of course, I will.” She answered in a hushed whisper knowing she didn’t really have much of a choice. Any person at that point in time would have had answered the same thing.

She saw a slight curl form on the side of his brother's lips which she had taken for as a smile as if he approved of Sansa's conviction to save them all. The thought encouraged and disheartened her at the same time. Saving the world would be a glory but if it should fall on her hands, then they are all doomed.

“I… I will give my own life… if it would mean I could save you all... But how?" She didn’t wait for Bran to respond but instead she rose from where she was sitting and started darting around the room.

"Yes, I am the Lady of Winterfell, but an ordinary girl nonetheless. We aren’t fully prepared…Not yet… I might have been able to secure us supplies and grains that could last us all several years after the war, but with the wights marching upon us earlier than we expected, what good would all those be if there’d be no one left to feed after all?" She said while pacing in front of Bran not really paying attention to his brother anymore who looks at her curiously, but merely talking to herself just like what she always did in her solar when she was plagued with her thoughts.

For many moons since Jon sailed for Dragonstone, she had endured sleepless nights just to make sure her people would be ready for the doom to come. But when they first heard about the news of the army of the undead only days away from her home, she couldn't help but feel she hadn't done enough. It had only been a moon since the Wall had fallen, and a week since Jon and the dragon queen’s retinue arrived at Winterfell, but the Night King and his army were faster, more eager perhaps to send Westeros to a cold ruin.

When everyone else was in charge of fighting off death and defending all the people of the realm from annihilation, she, Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell, and who, after Jon Snow’s true parentage was revealed by Samwell Tarly and Bran to their family, was claimed by Jon himself to be the future Queen of the North once the long night is over, is in charge of only one and most vital thing. Survival. Before, during and after the war. She had greatly and meticulously fulfilled her duties to prepare the North for winter, constantly reminding herself that the North must survive-just like her.

So she panicked and grew weary, and she had to constantly remind everyone of their duties- of the people who will be supervising the granaries and the men who should be guarding the women, the old and the children who would have to hide away in the crypts should Jon, the Northmen, the Knights of the Vale, Dany and her 2 remaining dragons, the Free Folk and the Dothraki fail to kill the Night King.

In her mind, the only thing she’s good at is playing the game of thrones-but that would be useless now. When the long night is won, she would be a queen perhaps. Yes. A Queen of Ruins. And when they lose, well, she had already prayed to the old gods to at least let her undead body march all the way to King’s Landing so that she can kill Cersei herself.

“There is a reason why he is coming to Winterfell”, Bran said pulling Sansa out of her thoughts.

“And what is that? Tell me, what does the Night King want? Does he want you?” Sansa asked anxiously imagining how she would have to endure losing another Stark to this war.

“He killed the Three-Eyed Raven before me. I can imagine he would want the same for myself.”

“No… You must leave Winterfell. You can go to the Vale… with Arya.” Sansa said as she sat across Bran again and clutched his arms trying hard not to let the tears pour out from her eyes.

“And what of you, and Jon? Will you come with us? Shall we all leave the North then?” Bran asked Sansa knowing fully well what the answer was. She loosened her grip briefly but tightened it again when she answered.

“You know we have to stay here… The North needs us. We need you and Arya too, but Jon cannot let you die… Jon and I, we can’t let you die, not again. Please save yourself, Bran… Save Arya… Please…” Bran looked at Sansa’s hands enclosing his arms and for a brief moment wondered if they would leave a mark. It hurt his body and he wondered if it would have hurt Bran’s heart as well seeing the sister he knew he loved as frightened as she was.

Sansa realized then how tight her grip was and released her brother’s arms posthaste. She looked at her hands as if they were possessed by an evil of sorts. The darkness enveloping the two of them then were too strong that no mask or propriety could have stopped the tears and sobs that came pouring out of Lady Stark.

“Bran, Jon, and Arya… they all died Sansa… Even you did- you had to die and live as Alayne to survive. But we all came back, yet not the same. This is not about me, Sister. This is about you- your role in this war. Your duty.”

She was reminded of what her brother said moments earlier about her saving the world they live in and she couldn’t have been more frightened but certain when she delivered her decision after she willed her tears to stop.

“I will do my duty. Whatever it is-just tell me. I won’t let the Night King harm you, or Arya, or Jon. I will protect you.” Sansa utters with conviction but with head bent to her heaving chest and fingers clutching her dress.

“No one can protect anyone.”

At that, Sansa slowly lifted hear head up to look at her brother. They were both unblinking, almost glaring at each other as if in a staring contest and it was Bran who looked away first only to pull something out from under his cloak.

Sansa looked at the familiar weapon wide-eyed and confused as Bran hands it out to her.

“Soon they’ll be outside the gates of the castle. You must keep this with you.” She had barely even touched the hilt of the dagger as she gently pushed it back to his brother’s hand upon hearing his words.

“You’ve given that to Arya, right? Give it back to her, it will serve her better. I have my own weapon. Jon has had a shard of dragon glass forged as a dagger for myself.”

She could not believe it but she swore she saw her brother smirk as if she said something utterly foolish and silly. In a manner of seconds, however, his demeanor changed to his usual deadened appearance. The changes in her brother’s affect and behavior is doing nothing but alleviate her anxiety.

“But dragon glass cannot kill the Night King Sansa, he was born from it.” Bran said with steel in his voice and not for the first time this day alone Sansa saw a range of emotion in the Three-Eyed Raven’s eyes.

“You cannot possibly mean for me to take on the Night King?” Sansa queried disbelievingly.

“Sansa…” Bran said… _And in his eyes she saw sadness._

“Bran?” She answered as she started questioning her own existence and how cruel the gods are who have played with her returning her home only to let her die at the hands of an enemy more vile and evil than the ones who tormented her.

“You’re the only one who will have a chance to do it. You’re the only one who can get to the Night King alive.” Bran said with a sigh… _And in his eyes she saw guilt._

“And why is that?” Sansa sat upright preparing herself for what she knew was a storm to come.

“The Night King is marching here to Winterfell… To come and take you as his queen.”

Bran declared… _And in Bran’s eyes she saw anger._

 

 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

**_“The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter - often an unconscious but still a faithful interpreter - in the eye.”_ **

  
**_― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre_ **

 


	2. The Heart Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran Stark prepares Sansa Stark for what is about to come.

 And in his brother’s eyes she saw anger…

And somehow she knew that her brother was still in there somewhere…

The silence deafened her, but slowly the grave news crawled its way back into her mind.

_The Night King is marching here to Winterfell… To come and take you as his queen…_ and more than anger, a surge of trepidation rose from within her.

She stood up abruptly with an intense force that brought back the indifference in Bran’s eyes.

_The Three-Eyed Raven is back_ , she thought.

“How can you be sure of that?” Sansa asked him with her hands balled into fists at her sides, her knuckles slowly turning white.

“It'd be better if I show you... Let me...” Bran said as he reached out for her hand.

Sansa didn’t understand how her brother plans to do it, but she moved forward hesitantly and slowly lifted her hand.

“Will it hurt?” She asked.

“It depends. But I know you are brave. Are you ready?” Bran knew she wasn’t.

“Yes.”

And with that, Bran gripped Sansa’s hand. And in a mere second they were taken to a place too familiar…

A dark, pristine forest surrounded them. She recognized the trees- sentinels, oaks and ironwoods among many others. At the center of it stood the weirwood tree with bark as white as bone, and dark red leaves slightly covered in snow.   It should have a melancholy face carved in the bark, but she cannot see it.

_We must be behind the heart tree_ , she thought.

“We’re in the godswood…in Winterfell…” Sansa said amusingly as she looked around her.

She used to feel like the old gods were watching her with a thousand unseen eyes whenever she prayed in the godswood in King’s Landing. Her faith had slowly thinned out over the years, but looking at the heart tree, she wondered if they could see them. She touched the giant thing curious as to how it would feel like and though it was snowing all around them, she was surprised it was warm to touch.

“It’s warm.” She mused.

“There is a power in living wood, a power strong as fire.” Bran said, talking for the first time since they got there, recalling the words of the boy he once knew.

As if the heat seduced her, she closed her eyes and almost said a prayer but she was quickly pulled out from her enchantment as she heard someone’s footsteps. It was her brother.

She had not noticed earlier but then she realized that the boy she was looking at wasn’t sitting on a wheelchair, and so for a moment she just stood there…lingering… watching Bran with his back on her, treading through the branches and the roots of the tree. She realized Bran was actually already taller than her, and even though it felt sweet to see him walk again she can’t help but ponder on bitter thoughts.

_He would have made a handsome and gallant knight… but the gods are wicked..._ She quickly withdrew her hand from the tree as if it burned her.

“You’re walking… How?!...” She called out to him, but her words dissolved into air for Bran, as if not hearing anything continued to walk towards the other side of the tree. Sensing her brother’s somberness, she slowly followed him, carefully stepping over two humongous roots planted on the ground. 

Everything around her looked beautiful, and she almost forgot why they were there, but then she remembered how the Three-Eyed Raven was supposed to show her something and when she saw her brother standing beside the heart tree with pure grief written all over his face, she then anticipated a nightmare.

But nothing could have prepared Sansa Stark for what she was about to see.

Walking slowly towards him with her eyes on the ground, she heard a girl breathing heavily, sobbing-almost whimpering. She wanted to see who it was, but she didn’t dare turn around.

“Do it now, I am not afraid of you.” The girl said from behind her.

Hearing the girl utter the words made her clutch her chest with her one hand as she reached her brother’s side; her other hand grasped his arm. She turned around with head bent down and eyes still trained on the now icy ground.

_I know that voice…_ She mused. She would have recognized it anywhere…for it was hers.

“Would you like to go back?” Bran asked sensing her discomfort.

“No!” She answered post-haste. “There’s no turning back now…” She added.

Slowly she looked up, and the scene before her unfolded like hell…

 

                                

 “There is a power in living wood, a power strong as fire.”

-Jojen Reed

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for this very short chapter… I planned it to be longer but it might take a while so I decided to just post it anyway… I hope you like it. Again, I’m sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Thank you for your sweet comments from the last chapter!
> 
> P.S.: One of my favorite characters in ASOIAF is Bran Stark (although my writing would not justify him), so Jojen Reed has a very soft spot in my heart… He was that person who truly knew the magnitude of Bran’s abilities and encouraged him to use them so, as a true friend would.


	3. The Night Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa sees a vision that brought her to her knees.

 

** Chapter 3: The Night Queen  **

Sansa saw herself, in a grey wool gown leaning her back against the heart tree, breathing heavily with her chest exposed revealing half of her bosom.

_Walking towards her is the Night King as pale as ice with a crown of thorns jutting from his head. Behind the Night King were two White Walkers, each holding an ice spear, and behind them were wights, hundreds of them, watching the spectacle. Then slowly the Night King raised his arm, and Sansa winced at the sight of the shard of dragonglass he was holding up, however ready to submit to it._

She saw herself crying, but her expression was steely; her lips were quivering and her eyes were staring the Night King down.

Stricken with fear she wanted to tell herself to _Run! Do something! Don’t let him do it!_ But she saw how this Sansa had willingly submitted herself to the Night King, how she neither balked nor tried to fight.

_Could I really be that brave?_ She asked herself.

Then the most painstaking sight happened before her, as the Night King pressed the dragonglass to her chest... Piercing through it first, then slowly pressing it down with his palm… Sansa almost ran to her… but she was held back by Bran.

_When the deed was done, Sansa gasped for air as her skin slowly turned as white as the moon, identical to the Night King’s. Her hair slowly turned to silver- transforming her auburn curls from the roots to the tips; her irises that were once vivid blue turned viridian as the stars…_

_Her dress turned to a lovely gown of pure white wrapping her body tighter as the wool fabric was enveloped in frost, all the embroideries, buttons, thread slowly hardening turning them into crystals which made it so majestic Sansa would have never dreamed of being capable of making such a dress even with her skillful hands._

_As the change transpired, Sansa drew her last breath, an icy puff of smoke coming from her mouth. She closed her eyes and opened them at once. Then she stood straighter and looked at the Night King._

_The Night King smiled, but his queen did not, and so he put his palm on her chest as if to feel a heartbeat, and when he was sure there was none, one of the White Walkers behind him handed him an ice spear. He held it up and looked at the sky as if he was summoning something._

_Dropping the ice spear, the Night King saw that his queen was also looking up as if she can feel what was coming. The Night King looked fascinated, but his queen still looked confounded. He then stepped closer to her, and swiped his hand over her head, and his queen fell unconscious and he caught her in his arms as a groom carrying his lady bride. In several moments a loud screech thundered through the sky and a large shadow cast over them._

_The ice dragon swept above them, landed on top of the heart tree, then slowly crawled down to meet his master and his new lady wife. The dragon bent his head down and the Night King carefully laid his queen on its back. He sat behind her and gave the dragon a tap. It turned around and galloped once, then quickly spread its wings and took off, leaving the other two White Walkers and hundreds of wights still trapped inside the godswood._

Bran and Sansa looked up and saw how The Night King took his queen away on the ice dragon. Sansa was on her knees then, in shock not quite believing what she just saw, then they heard screams and shouts and a loud roar sounded, and for a moment Sansa thought the Night King returned, but the dragon that flew overhead was no ice. This one was fire, bigger than the one the Night King rode away in, and fire it brought to all the creatures below it, sparing none.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, again, for the short chapter, although I realized that this is the only way I can update this fic constantly, so I hope you understand… And, I also just want a chapter for this vision on its own… Hope you like it! Thanks for all the kudos and comments, I deeply appreciate it!


	4. The Ink is Dry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran Stark continued to give Sansa a glimpse of the gloomy future.

** Chapter 4: The Ink is Dry **

Time warped around them and suddenly they were in a throne room, and despite having lived in the Red Keep for several years, it was all too unfamiliar to Sansa with its roof open and burning from which both ash and snow were falling. She didn’t know where they were until she saw the Iron Throne a few meters in front of her and Bran.

“We’re in King’s Landing”, she murmured. She then looked at the people in the scene and she saw Daenerys Targaryen standing in front of the throne, looking disheveled but still as regal as the queen that she is in her white winter coat. Below her stands who were probably left of her people… Jorah Mormont, the Hound, two Unsullied, a Khal, Beric Dondarrion, and Jon… all of them looked exhausted, defeated almost, but their swords were still wielded and their stances still ready to fight.

_Fight who?_ Sansa wondered.

In a heartbeat the dilapidated oak door leading to the throne room opened in a slow creak, only for it to completely fall to the ground. A cold wind entered then and extinguished the fires of the burning roof. If the night were still young, they would have been blind, but the light from the sun was beginning to appear in the sky. It was dawn.

Slowly the ground turned to ice, creeping in from the entrance where a door once was, as the sound of a half dozen feet walking resonated in the air, and so all of them looked on, knowing fully well who they were.

Sansa saw three White Walkers enter first, walking as gallantly as knights. She slowly backed away, terrified of what’s going to unfold before her. And as her back met the wall, the Night King entered, and what she saw after gave shivers to her skin and shattered her very soul. She saw the Night Queen, who was once the Lady of Winterfell, the daughter of the North. It wasn’t her now though, for she can only see an ice queen as stoic as her king.

Sansa looked at Jon and she saw how he loosened his grip on his sword. His shoulders slumped and he looked sorrowful he could have been crying. He was staring at the ice queen, his half-sister turned cousin, almost pleading as if she could understand her. The Ice Queen looked his way and her brows crinkled. For a moment Sansa thought the ice queen would remember Jon as she took a step towards him, the Night King’s eyes not leaving her. Jon dropped his sword then and the clang of it echoed throughout the room, and he fell on his knees.

“It’s not her, Snow!” Beric Dondarrion shouted desperately.

“Do it Jon! Do it or we all die!” Jorah Mormont said with urgency, as he slowly ascended the stairs backwards preparing to defend his queen. She had never seen the man so discomposed like this before.

That was when Sansa perceived it was to be Jon’s duty to strike the Night Queen- _her_. Sansa wasn’t sure, but her gut was telling her that The Night Queen’s death _could_ mean the Night King’s demise, for they became equals when The Night King gave her half his life in the godswood.

Although Daenerys kept a hard face, she stayed quiet, glaring at his nephew, waiting for him to protect her, to do the one thing that would win her the Iron Throne finally, but Jon just stared at the Night Queen even when she stopped walking towards him. Her brows were not furrowed anymore and Sansa came to a realization that there was no way she was still in there.

She was just a vessel, a key to undo the once King in the North. The Night King must have known how deeply Jon loved Sansa, so he had chosen her to be his queen. The one woman Aegon Targaryen won’t be able to kill.

In Sansa’s mind she was chanting too. _Do it Jon, do it._ But she knew he won’t.

_But how? How did he know? Through Bran?_

“Jon, fucking hell, do it!” Sansa heard the Hound say with a growl, and she shook her head as she faced her younger brother.

“Jon won’t do it. They will all die.” Sansa warned Bran, as if her brother could so something.

What transpired after happened in a blur, as Viserion screeched above them. The ice dragon flew overhead preparing to freeze them to their deaths but the fire breathing dragon Rhaegal appeared and blew fire after fire to its brother. All of them were looking up distracted and they didn’t notice how the Night King slowly found his way in front of Jon Snow. He drew his ice sword and made to strike him but before its tip even landed on his skin it was stopped by Beric’s flaming sword.  They engage in a duel just like the others, while some tried to hide for cover, as the two dragons fighting overhead made shards of ice and balls of fire rain, but Jon remained on the ground, kneeling with his head low on his chest.

Sansa wanted to reach out to him, but she knew she can do nothing. She only fell on her knees too, mortified with what she was seeing. She slowly turned her head around to look at Bran and she was surprised at how he appeared so calm, looking up at the two dragons fighting.

_I wonder how many times he had been here, how many times he saw this._ Sansa thought.

Sansa turned her head again this time to see the mother of dragons trying to summon Rhaegal screaming her heart out, but it was useless. The dragon won’t come to her.

“It’s that Stark boy, he still controls him.” Sansa heard Daenerys Targaryen say to Jorah Mormont as the Hound finally struck one White Walker with his Valyrian steel sword. The Night King’s general shattered like glass and disappeared into the smoggy air, just as quickly as another White Walker struck the Hound on his back all the way through his heart, leading to his death.

Around Jon Snow his comrades fought to protect Daenerys Targaryen, and one by one they died.  The two remaining unsullied and the Dothraki Khal fell through the same one who killed the Hound.  And though four of them were still alive, one of them was almost dead in front of the Night Queen. Two remaining White Walkers and the Night King against Jorah Mormont, Beric Dondarrion and Daenerys Targaryen.

With a thundering sound, Rhaegal landed on the floor of the throne room but before it can blow fire against the Night King, the ice dragon landed on its back and bit its neck. The dragon’s scream pierced through Sansa’s ears and she covered them with her hands. Rhaegal flipped on its back and clawed his way out and once it gained its footing flew away again, Viserion flying after it. Daenerys looked on as her children disappeared with tears in her eyes as the ground finally stopped trembling. That might very well be the last time she would see them and Sansa felt pain in her heart and pitied her.

The Night King slew Jorah Mormont first causing Daenerys Targaryen to fall on her knees and bellow a scream. Her eyes were seething with anger not at the Night King but at her nephew. Beric Dondarrion raised his sword with an awkward gait. But instead of fighting, he threw the burning sword away and it landed near Jon. Beric closed his good eye and murmured inaudible words. His eyes flew open as the Night King pierced his sword through his chest.

Daenerys glanced up at the Night King as he raised his sword but Sansa cannot bear to look. The moment she opened her eyes, Daenerys was laying on the ground, her blood coloring her hair a bright red, the perfect shade of fire.

_Fire and Blood._ Sansa thought, ironically.

The silence deafened Sansa, and she called out Jon’s name, wishing he could hear her. Her eyes grew wide as Jon suddenly looked up from the ground scanning his surroundings, and she saw the terror in Jon’s face when he realized he was the only one left alive. He knew he failed. He cried and shouted like a madman, like a dragon woken from its slumber. But he stopped when he heard footsteps.

The Night Queen walked towards him as the Night King looked on with a satisfied smirk on his icy lips.

“No…No… Bran, do something, she can’t kill Jon… Bran, please!” Sansa cried frantically, but she can’t move. So she just stood there sobbing, watching the Night Queen as she walks to where Jon was.

As she halted in front of him, she raised her hand and Sansa thought it odd how majestic it looked when her long fingers shook in the air. Bran wasn’t talking but Sansa noticed how he was holding his breath. She knew then that something was about to happen.

"Sansa..." Jon said.

Still on his knees, he looked at the Night Queen's eyes defiantly, not giving a care as to how cold and horrifying it looked. Everyone around him was gone and Jon was ready to surrender. Not thinking twice, he grabbed the Night Queen's hand and closed his eyes. He was waiting for something to happen and after a moment, he opened his eyes again, and it shocked them both, how Jon did not perish when he should have had. When the Night King and his army headed south, the North heard about how the Night Queen's touch alone could shatter a man to pieces.

Jon didn't, but he felt the heat coursing through his veins, and the coldness of his lady’s hand mixed in with the heat in his Targaryen blood brought them both suffering. The Night Queen grimaced as Jon tightened his grip on her and slowly, agonizingly, their hands turned black starting from where they were intertwined.

Both of them felt pain but neither tried to let go. It was as if both of them had wanted it. Where Jon smiled, the Night Queen only stared at him, her mouth agape with confusion and silent suffering, and that's when Jon knew. _She's still inside..._

"Let's end this now Sansa, together... If you have to die, then let me die with you." Jon pleaded, willing The Night Queen- _his Sansa,_ to not let go, the frostbite already reaching their forearms.

The Night King saw what was happening between the Targaryen boy and his queen. As if hurting too, he grimaced and held one of his arm up to see it slowly becoming hard and black. He immediately took a step back clearly caught unawares of the change transpiring within him. His queen was trying to kill him, but he would not have any of it. Using his other hand, he slashed on the intertwined hands of his queen and the Targaryen boy. Neither of them shouted in pain but Jon Snow did so for anger and as he launched himself to kill the Night King, he stopped on his tracks as the Night King grabbed The Night Queen on her neck and threw her to the ground. Two White Walkers walked towards him as he held on to his right arm, blood dripping from it from where the Night King cut it. He wanted to fight, but also wanted to die.

The Night Queen was scared and her eyes were full of terror, laying on the ground on her stomach with only one arm to support her. The Night King knelt before her, and pulled her shoulder to push her down again. As she lay supine on the floor, the Night King put his palm on her chest. Slowly, The Night Queen’s skin turned to flesh and in a few moments, the Night King pulled out a dragon glass.

And so the Night Queen was Sansa once again.

Jon shouted her name but was overcome with anguish as he saw her chest full of blood from where the shard of dragonglass came from.

Their eyes met, and were full of tears. Sansa didn’t say anything as she lay there almost lifeless, but she looked at Jon and she smiled. She was about to open her mouth to say something but the Night King struck her with his sword and Jon knew then that he lost her.

Jon Snow saw the flaming sword on the ground and as if possessed, Jon Snow quickly ran to it and picked it up. But as soon as he moved forward to fight the Night King and the remaining White Walkers, Rhaegal came flying in, swooping down to grab him with his claws, and he shouted and trashed about making the weak dragon almost lose its balance. But they escaped, the Night King looking on, not making an effort to stop them at all.

 “No…. No……!” Sansa heard Jon shout until his voice and the sound of the dragon’s flapping wings disappeared.

Finally, she stood up, her eyes open wide at the bodies that lay in the throne room, especially hers. She looked outside and saw all of Westeros in cold ruin. Below the Red Keep she can see bodies slowly rising up from the dead. One by one, the bodies in the throne room did so, too- the Dothraki, Unsullied, Beric, Jorah, and the Hound- except for one. Intrigued, the Night King ascended the throne and knelt down to check Daenerys’s pulse.

_Is she still alive?_ Sansa mused. The Night King smirked and his eyes grew wide as if an idea just came to him.

The Night King then brought out the piece of dragonglass that he took out from the last Night Queen, and the same time she realized what the Night King was about to do, he slowly inserted the dragonglass through the Targaryen girl’s chest. And they waited, until finally, the transformation began…

Daenerys opened her eyes, and was helped up by his king, and as if curious, the new Night Queen looked around and descended the stairs.

For the first time, Sansa heard the Night King laughed. It was an eerie sound, almost like a dog choking on its food, and one that didn’t seem to only scare her, but also Bran. And so he said, “We’ve been here far too long, Sansa. We must go.”

But as soon as he said it, the Night King turned around abruptly looking straight at her brother.

Bran slowly backed away.

Sansa shivered, then asked, “Can he see you? Bran?”

Then the Night King looked at Sansa.

“We have to go now…” Bran said anxiously, but then he saw how Sansa had frozen in fear, and how the Night King slowly advanced towards her.

“Sansa!” Bran shouted as he grabbed Sansa’s arm and in seconds they were back in Winterfell.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Sansa pulled her hand immediately from Bran’s and looked around her. As soon as she realized they were back home, she folded her arms to her chest as she breathed with a great heave.

She wanted to cry, and scream, but no sound came from her frozen throat. She felt like her chest was about to burst as she stared Bran down. Her legs wobbled and she then felt a sudden cold reach her head that made her sink down to her knees with a thud.

“The pain won’t last long….” Bran said remembering the pain he felt when he first came back from a vision with the last Three-Eyed Raven.

Sansa shook her head violently as her hands that were once clutching her chest went to her head, which almost touched the ground, pulling her hair out in fistfuls loosening her braids to ease the splitting pain she was suffering.

Bran reached out to her and touched her shoulder but she slapped his hand away the moment she felt his touch, fearing it might bring her back to his visions once more.

“Don’t touch me!” Sansa shouted finding her voice again as she tried to push herself up.

“Why me?” She screamed at her wide-eyed brother.

Bran shook his head. “I wouldn’t know”.

_But you’re the Three-Eyed Raven! You should know!_ She wanted to say.

_What has this world done to us? Why have we come to this?_ She thought.

Her lips trembled and her tears found their way down again. The pain in her chest and head dissipated, but the images of the future still clawed at her heart.

It took a moment for her to gain herself. And as her breathing evened, he looked at Bran and realized how she must have frightened him and so she mumbled her apologies. It took a lot of effort not to panic and break down again, but Sansa knew they had to talk about it.

So with a deep sigh, she started.

“The dragon… it took Jon, where did it go?”

“Rhaegal took him where he belongs, back to the North… where his family should be…”

“The North survived?” Sansa asked straightening her back.

“Because you saved us…” Bran answered with pride.

“How can I save the North by being the Night Queen?” Sansa asked searching for her brother’s eyes. She would know if he lied.

“The Night King will spare the North, in…” Bran started, but Sansa cut him off.

“…exchange of my hand? Did he tell you that? Are you making some sort of truce with him without our knowledge?” Sansa asked in a sarcastic tone.

Bran scoffed and smiled. “Would you like to see?” He asked and offered his hand.

“No.” Sansa answered quickly, wondering, for a moment, how her dear brother learned to taunt.

Bran shook his head slowly, almost laughing. She would have joined in if only her brother’s mask didn’t appear again in a flash. He was detached once more and it took him a moment to speak again. 

“I saw it… an image of the North… Safe even after this war…The Night King passed the North and entered south after taking you.” Bran said wistfully.

Sansa knew that look and he believed him, as she had no reason not to. Nothing Bran had said so far had been proven wrong.

“And you? Arya?”

“Arya will live… I will, too.” _But in another form_.

In a form they had seen minutes ago.

_You will never walk again, Bran… But you will fly_. The words echoed in his mind.

“And Jon too, right?” Sansa asked while playing with the hem of her gown, eyes on the floor, trying not to sound too hopeful.

_Can he see right through me?_ She thought.

“He’ll survive. But he would go through a lot of pain. You were there. You saw what he had to do. And what he had failed to do. To you. The South could have been spared as well. If only he was brave enough to do his duty. But he can’t kill the woman he…. ” Bran stopped himself before uttering the words, as if afraid to divulge a sacred secret.

“That wasn’t me anymore. He should have done it.” Sansa said, ashamed of the blush she knew was creeping up her neck, as she started to get back up on her feet. Her legs were numb and she almost stumbled but Bran helped her up.

“And if I refuse? What will happen?” Sansa said still ashamed to look into her brother’s eyes, afraid to be judged. If Bran knew how Jon felt for her, surely he knew how she felt for Jon, too. So Sansa’s gaze was downwards, towards her brother’s legs, the ones that were working earlier.

“I’d never know Sansa. This is the only future I can see. The ink is dry. It is written.” Bran declared.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t change it.” Sansa declared at once as she looked up straight into her brother’s eyes, forgetting her shame.

“If we try to change our fate, then I might lose glimpse of everything.” Bran glared.

“It’s still better than knowing our foul destiny and not doing anything about it at all. The Night King knows that we know, you saw how he looked at us! We have to have another plan, but this time, you can’t let him in.” Sansa tried to convince her brother.

“It’s a risk that could mean the death of us all… Sparing the North is the best we can do to save humankind, at the very least.” Her brother countered.

“Bran you saw what will happen to the realm if we let the Night King march south… Would you really call that living even if the North survives? The people will be stuck in the North, forever fearing for their lives.  And Jon, even if he’ll live, what makes you think he’ll stop trying to kill the Night King? It will be an endless war…”

Bran didn’t say anything. But he sighed, as if he agreed with his sister somehow.

“Bran, we have to try… Even if we all died, at least we died trying…” Sansa insisted.

She expected him to continue contradicting her, but then he smiled and pulled the dagger out again.

“Then take this…”

“What is this for, truly?” She asked as she carefully examined it.

“It can kill a White Walker. It might be able to kill the Night King.”

“It **_might_**. But what about what Jon tried to use on the Night King, in the vision… It could have worked, right?”

“Beric Dondarrion wields that sword, but he is nowhere near Winterfell now. You must understand that the sole purpose of that sword would not come into play until the Night King takes the capital. We have to find another way. If we can defeat him before he even tries to head south, the whole realm won’t have to suffer.”

“We?” Sansa asked quizzically. But before Bran can answer, someone knocked on the door. Three quick raps and for some reason she knew who it was. She looked towards the door.

“Bran, this is Jon.” They both heard. Sansa’s heart jumped and suddenly she didn’t know what to do. She fixed her hair and prepared to leave straightening her gown, and Bran, sensing her disarray then said, “Come back this evening, and bring Arya with you.” Bran wasn’t sure if she heard him.

“Sansa…”

“Yes, I will come back this evening, and I will bring Arya with me.” She said as if she was a child reciting the words said to her by a septa. But then the child was quickly gone when she said almost threateningly, “Don’t tell Jon anything”, and Bran understood why.

Duty may be the death of love, but Bran wasn’t sure if it applied to Jon. He knew he had to tell him, though. Some part of it at least.

“Bran, promise me.” Sansa insisted.

He nodded yes. Sansa gave a long sigh and walked towards the door.

“Come in.” Bran called out.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jon was summoned to his younger brother’s chambers. It would be his first time to talk to him alone, after he revealed to him his true parentage.

It was hard to believe, but he knew that Sansa, wo was the only reason the revelation was easier to accept, was right- he must not show distress if he doesn’t want anyone’s attentions on him. It must be kept hidden, for his safety and the realm’s. Once the Dragon Queen finds out about his lineage, two things can possibly happen, she’ll acknowledge it and marry him, which he won’t be too enthusiastic about, or kill him, which the north won’t be happy about all the same, worse, could lead to a different kind of war-which all of them, for the love of the old gods cannot afford.

Jon admitted, that The Dragon Queen can be unpredictable. Her judgement quite unfathomable and though she’d like to think they have a deeper relationship than that of a queen and her subject, Jon would like to think otherwise. He doesn’t know her. He only did what he had to do. 

He knocked. Three quick raps.

“Bran, this is Jon.” Jon called out while sticking his left ear to the door making sure his cousin was there. He was a little bit taken aback when he heard a shuffling sound and two distinct voices, one of which was very familiar and made his heart flutter. He slowly backed away. _Sansa_ , he thought.

“Come in.” He heard his brother say.

He was about to open the door when it came flying open and he was met by his half-sister turned cousin who looked like she just saw the Night King. Their eyes have met for a few seconds until she composed herself and told him she needs some rest. He nodded then and let himself into Bran’s chamber, and just like the last time he saw him, he looked like he was deep in thought. He let himself in and closed the door. He spoke first to break his brother out of his reverie.

“You talked to Sansa?” Jon asked innocently.

“Yes.”

“And?” He probed.

“We talked about her role in this war.” Bran answered plainly. Jon clenched his jaw not entirely happy about what else Sansa should do to prepare for the war. His cousin has been getting no sleep getting everything ready night and day and he hated to think Bran might be adding something else to her never ending list of responsibilities as Lady of Winterfell.

“Which is to stay inside the safety of these walls and lead the people before and once the war is over- _THAT_ is her role… But she didn't look so happy. What did you tell her?” He asked rather discourteously.

 “We all have a purpose in this war, especially you, Jon.” Bran answered coolly unaffected by his cousin’s crude demeanor.

“I know my role in this war Bran. Now what did you tell Sansa?” Jon almost shouted.

“No, you don't know your role in this war Jon. Not yet.” Bran answered trying to steer Jon’s mind away from the Lady of Winterfell. . It seemed Jon always loses his courtesy and honor when it comes to Sansa.

“And you do? Is that why you summoned me here?” Jon asked.

“You need to know your duty, and make sure you'd fulfill it. You have to prepare for what’s coming.” Bran answered looking at his cousin’s eyes.

“The Night King’s coming, aye. I know all of that.” Jon said as he waved his right hand.

“Not all… Do you know why the Night King is coming here to Winterfell?” Bran queried as if trying to test him.

Jon heaved a big sigh as he was looking at the chair that was left stumbled on the ground. He was wondering if that’s where Sansa sat, and couldn’t help but feel that something was amiss. He would have to ask her later what she and Bran really talked about. Jon was truly clueless why the Night King was heading to Winterfell but he was too tired of playing guess and didn’t even want to try.

“Just tell me and be done with it.” He answered.

“I saw a vision of a bride… it seems he needs a queen. And she’s here, Jon.” Bran said.

Jon’s pupils dilated and his chest heaved. The word “queen” should have made him think about his aunt first, but it didn’t, for he first thought about his half-sister. _Cousin_. The rightful Queen in the North. _Of his heart_. For the first time Bran saw Jon in fear.

And though fear can make one brave, it can also make one do foolish things.

“And who would that queen be?” Jon asked. Swearing in his mind that if Sansa’s name came out of his mouth he would abandon the war and sail off with his siblings to Essos. The Night King and Westeros be damned.

“Who is she?” Jon asked impatiently holding his breath.

_A girl kissed by fire_. Bran thought.

_But love is the death of duty._

“The Mother of Dragons…” Bran answered.

And Jon breathed again.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

I am so so sorry for the very late update, but there were a lot of changes I had to make in the story.

This chapter is so important since it will somehow dictate the flow of the other chapters. Although I did some revisions with the story, I cannot say that it's perfectly written grammar-wise. 

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first GoT fic and English is not my first language so I apologize in advance if there are any inconsistencies with the grammar, spelling or basically, the whole writing itself. I've had many qualms about writing this story since I myself could not see this pairing happening both in ASoIaF and the TV show but I happened to chance upon a theory video on YouTube about the possibility of the NK and his quest in looking for a bride and my mind has never stopped thinking of this story since. As early as now I will assure you that nothing romantic will come between Sansa and the NK and their meeting MAY or MAY NOT be brief. I would appreciate any reviews and suggestions. Thanks!


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